Flawed Gem
by HC0
Summary: Chronicling Elphaba's first day alone in that most beautiful capital of Oz. Such a lovely place is the Emerald City.


**Disclaimer: **_**Wicked**_** and all its accompanying everythings are the creation and property of Gregory Maguire.**

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Ah, the Emerald City. The Jewel of Oz, as they say.

All right, I'll admit it: I'm afraid. It was easy to pretend bravery when I left Glinda, there—she was so blatantly terrified herself that I didn't even feel my own fear in comparison. Besides, I was the strong one. I had to reassure her; to kiss her goodbye and let her know that she could survive on her own. She believed me, however unwillingly, and left.

I disappeared into the crowd, and realized the quagmire I was now in. I was in the Emerald City, and I was alone, and I had perhaps enough money to buy half an apple. A moldy one. With a worm. I had nowhere to stay, and very little plan.

And so, I am afraid. That is not helpful at all. I must get rid of the fear. First things first: figure out what to do. Organize.

I find an empty bench in the middle of a park, and sit down. One advantage of being green: you blend right in in the Emerald City. Alright. I didn't piss off the most politically powerful man in Oz for no reason. I have to find a way to fight him. I know I'm not the only one; there must be a passel of insurrectionist groups here. I'll try to find one.

Next: place to live, or at least to stay for the night. Unfortunately, that usually requires money. So it's a doorway for me, and that'll just have to do until I find a way. Maybe when I'm a full-blown terrorist.

And food, of course. Well, I suppose that can be scavenged, so there's a matter taken care of. And again, that can be improved when I'm a terrorist.

Funny, to be thinking that so calmly.

What else do I need? Plan; housing; food; Fiyero—what? Goodness, I really must eat something. Odd mental digression aside, I think I'm covered.

So I'll go find food. Not hard, as there's a restaurant nearby, with a handily placed garbage can. Damn, it's a meat restaurant. I can't trust them not to eat Animals.

A little more scavenging produces some squishy vegetables. I pretend I've eaten worse.

Oh, I've forgotten: take inventory of possessions. Good, more time to pass.

I have my clothes: dress, undergarments, socks, boots, hat, cloak. A bag. A few books. Apparently I forgot to take my valise when I left Glinda.

I'll have to make do with what I have, until—now say it with me, little mental voices—I'm a terrorist.

I'll see about insurrectionist groups tomorrow, I decide. Right now I'm too high-strung. I wander into a bookstore, sink into a soft chair with a stack of books, and lose myself.

Books make such good friends. I love them….

Somebody's tapping me on the head. I look up and see that it's the manager of the store. "We're closing," he informs me.

"Already? But the day's just started."

He laughs. "You've been reading a long time, Miss. Look out the window."

It's almost completely dark. Oh. I glance to my stack of books. I was on the last one. Muttering an apology, I go out of the store to face the night.

Most doorways and newspaper huts are already occupied by the time I start looking. Just a few days ago I came through here and wondered what it would be like to live this way.

Don't ask questions—somebody might answer them.

I move farther into the alley, and I finally sight a little niche. And it's empty. Perfect. Odd how my view of perfect could have changed so much in so short a time.

"Lost?" asks a voice.

I look away from my niche and see that it's coming from a man leaning against the wall.

"No," I reply. It's true. You can't be lost when you have no idea where you're going.

He moves closer. "I'll help you," he offers.

Not good…"I think I'll pass on that."

"He puts a hand on my arm. Big and meaty and hairy and filthy.

I shrug away. "Fuck off."

He cackles, and grips my arm again. "No, dearie. Think I'll fuck _you_."

Damn, why didn't I think to get a knife? _He's strong_. Maybe I'll bluff him. "You've got another think coming."

"Oh, is the little girl armed?" he asks, running a hand down my body. His grip is such that I can't even recoil. "Nope. Make my job all the easier."

It's no use screaming; this neighborhood is already so full of screaming people that one rape victim will just pass unnoticed.

As he drags me to whatever lair he uses, I scan the ground for something sharp I can use to kill or castrate. So full of broken bottles before, the ground is now clean. Just my luck, to be raped in the cleanest section of town.

All my earlier fear slams back into me, and this time it seems to have brought company.

"Now just you be good and I'll be nice and gentle. I've had plenty of experience." He pushes me down and holds me with a boot on my chest.

Oddly, of al the things I could be thinking, I remember something I heard, or think I heard, long ago…

_Beware the first boy tries to please himself with her…snip his young sprout off for a souvenir…_

I don't have the dragon teeth anymore, but this set will have to do. As he begins to crouch, I sit up and _bite_.

He shrieks, but I keep sinking my teeth in. My mouth fills with flesh and hair and blood and I don't even want to _think _what else. I can't believe people actually like doing this.

And then, with an awful tearing sound and an inhuman scream, he breaks free. Suffice it to say, he's somewhat less than a _he_. Many girls now have me to thank.

I spit everything out of my mouth, choking, wiping with my skirt. I would use _water_ if it would help to get this taste out .

Leaving the rapist behind to nurse his stump, I find my way back to the alley.

And my niche has been overtaken.

_Shit._

On the other hand, the doorway of some tiny shop is now vacant.

Home sweet home.

So this is what it's like, the beautiful capital of Oz. I cannot wait to bring it down.

THE END


End file.
